Watch This Space...

>> Tuesday, June 29, 2010

Well, we made it home from Egypt safe and, mostly, sound.  Every large tour group has one person generous enough to bring along their cold and share it with everyone on the bus, and we are considering her generosity right about now.  Other than that cold, though, we are sound.

(I must admit that I find this whole unwell thing monumentally unfair.  In May and June I had a cold, had minor surgery I didn't even mention to anyone, ended up in the ER to have my gall bladder removed, got another infection that sent me to Urgent Care, experienced a nice case of Pharoah's revenge in Egypt, and now I have another cold.  Can I just tell you how sick I am of being sick? -- But, seriously, I feel much better than I did while I still had that stinkin' gall bladder, so it all works out in the end, I guess.)

Anyway, I just wanted to let y'all know that we are back and reluctantly easing ourselves back into the mundane.  On the bright side, we went to Egypt during an unbelievable heat wave (120 in the shade), and I'm finding the balmy tempertures of Virginia quite pleasant.  Tomorrow, when the temperature drops, I think I might have to find a sweater or something.

In the meantime, keep an eye on this space.  It's All Good if You Can Laugh will be back full steam before too long.  First I have to push myself out from under the weight of all these cats that seem to have missed me very much and recall what it is like to have to make my bed myself again.  The good news is the laundry is already done ... until Monday, that is.  The bad news is I still have over 750 emails to get through out of the 1250 I found when I turned on the computer yesterday.  (*sigh*)

If you are lacking in something to read, you can check out the travel blog of one of my party.  She promises to begin posting soon, too.  The link is here.


Boy, Does That Look Stupid! -- Wordless Wedesday

>> Wednesday, June 23, 2010

For my very second "Wordless Wednesday" post, I give you:

"A Place Where an Energy Efficient Lightbulb Really Looks Dumb"


Now tell me -- do I damage the Earth and buy an old-fashioned bulb, or do I damage my wallet and buy a new lamp?


Still MIA, So More "Shouting Out"

>> Monday, June 21, 2010

By the time you read this, I will be sailing the Nile River.

Um ... no. That wasn't a joke. Why do you ask? (And, no, it still isn't a good idea to figure out where I live and rob my house. I have house guests vigorously guarding my pile of newspapers and junk mail. There is no point trying. However, if you would like the newspapers and junk mail, I can arrange to send it to you, for the cost of shipping only.)

As you have probably heard to death by now, I had intended to continue my prolific posting even in my absence. At one time, I had over 10 days of posts scheduled and ready to go. Sadly, I used them all up on my convalesence and my stubborn refusal to write anything more than a few Facebook updates while under the influence of narcotic painkillers. (It's hard to type while your eyes are crossed.)

In the meantime, my friend Molly Campbell (aka @salamicat) has graciously agreed to allow me to do a Shout-Out over to her blog today. I wish I were here live and in person to help promote the post, because I know it's a good one. This post of hers originally surfaced on June 5, 2010. Normally, I would wait a bit longer before using it as the subject of a Shout Out, but honestly, I couldn't wait. By far, this one is my favorite of her blog. It's called Chalk and Cheese, and I know you will enjoy it.


My First Wordless Wednesday

>> Wednesday, June 16, 2010

On the internet, in the blogging world, there is a bit of a trend to post a picture, with minimal text, on Wednesdays, under a topic called "Wordless Wednesday".  Of course, I am far from the "minimal text" girl.  One of my friends uses the phrase "Almost Wordless Wednesday," but I doubt I can even manage that.  (Of course, bloggy-friends, I'm sure you know who started Wordless Wednesday, and to whom I should be linking for appropriate credit ... but I can't figure it out.  Feel free to enlighten me in the comments.)

So, without screwing up the concept too much more, I give you:  Toddler and Big Black Cat.  For some reason, Big Black Cat asked to see the pictures.



The Ever Growing List of Things I Have Learned

>> Monday, June 14, 2010

Summer is here, and I have compiled yet another list of "Things I Have Learned".  If I try to explain, I think everyone will just be shaking their heads in disbelief, so I think I will have to let the list speak for itself.

1.  One compound that is way stronger than either super glue or gum on a shoe is wet styrofoam package peanuts.

2.  There are some lamps (especially ones with fan attachments) that just make the new, energy efficient, squiggly light bulbs look stupid.  Really.  Stupid.  I'll post one for Wordless Wednesday one of these days.

3.  Tylenol with codeine makes me itch, a lot, when I take the full dose.  When I take the full dose, though, I no longer care that I itch at all.  I'm trying to figure out if learning these facts cancel each other out or not.  I suspect they do.

4.  The trickle of water into the fish tank in the next room can sound eerily like theme music and people talking when the house is very quiet.

5.  The more detailed and precise my lists are in preparation for leaving town, the greater the likelihood I will end up in the hospial or urgent care ... twice.

6.  Whenever it rains, the grill cover will be on the ground in a heap to catch the water and form a puddle from which the outdoor cats will drink and the mosquitos will breed.  I have not yet figured out how or why the grill cover ends up on the ground like this, because while the sun is shining, the cover is securely atop the grill, and the fastenings are too snug for the wind to carry it away.  (A mystery, for sure.  I guess there is more I haven't learned in this one than I have learned.)

7.  My son still doesn't understand how it is that I got to be boss and not him, and he would like a reconsideration from whoever it is that made the decision.  I keep telling him to give it up, because I have 34 more years of practice being stubborn than he does, but so far I'm getting no traction with the argument.

8.  I am on the fast backslide to 40, and many of you still think you would card me at first glance.  While I appreciate the sentiment, it's crow's feet, people.  You can't fake that.  Plus, now that I am a parent of a child in school (preschool, but still ...) I need that post-21 beverage more than ever.  Don't put obstacles in my way. I know you don't really think I look under 21.  You are just being nice.  You think I look under 30.  Thanks.  I can live with that, if you pass the wine, please.

9.  I'm actually starting to like some of the children's music in the CD player.  I don't even turn it off when Toddler goes to bed anymore.  Either my gall bladder was a kiddie music hater, or I'm going nuts.  Both options are equally plausible.

10.  I ate a piece of pizza yesterday, and I did not perish in the absence of my gall bladder.  I am very happy to learn this.

Hope you all are having a good week.


Climbing Back in the Saddle, One Joke at a Time

>> Friday, June 11, 2010

I have not sat down to write a blog post in well over a week.  Between the cold I had, the gall bladder surgery, the recovery, and now this new cold, I just haven't had the drive.  Plus, I made a pledge not to blog under the influence of narcotics, so that limited my options.  I know, you think that maybe reading a blog I wrote while wacked out on codeine could be amusing, but I think it might have just lead to a lot of typos.  Just ask my friends on Facebook.  Apparently I spelled "diapers" as "diamers" and "Pampers" as "pamers".  My ideas were coherent, but my fingers were not.

So ... here I am ... trying to get back up on the horse again.  I feel like I'm starting all over. Even better, I just finished watching a commercial about abandoned and abused pets from the ASPCA, so I am in exactly the right mood to be funny (... not).  (Get out the tissues.)

Thanks to my mother and Darling Husband, Entropy has only been able to make small gains on the house during my convalescence, but it certainly has made long strides in disrupting my meticulous planning for my trip to Egypt.  What can I say?  I am a bit ... particular.  Let's call it ... very detail oriented.  I find being so behind on my list of things to do ... nerve wracking.

Toddler has handled my retreat from active scrubbing, cooking, and potty training with about as much grace as any almost-3 year old can possibly do.  Of course, he has become exuberant and enthusiastic in his need for affection from me, especially after Grandma and Daddy have told him he has to be gentle.  The risk of random head butts has increased, usually aimed right at my incisions.  Also, I have noticed a distressing habit.  When Toddler wants to sit on my lap, he leans his tushy against my boobs, and slides down.  Apparently he is incapable of just sitting normally, or stay sitting when I place him gently in my lap without sliding. He always tries to stand up and scootch down "his way."  Oof.  Funny how I never noticed that before.

Oddly enough, removal of my gall bladder has radically affected my taste buds.  No one has any idea how these two things are related, but I can't deny the evidence.  The morning after my surgery, the hospital gave me black coffee with sugar, the best tasting thing I have ever had.  (Normally I use cream and artificial sweetner, with black coffee being a sign of desperation.)  Then, I had the good fortune to drink a cup of beef broth that tasted like the nectar of the gods.  I am not kidding.  I was in heaven. 

I have mentioned several times in this blog that I consider myself "salt" not "sweet" (I'd find the link, but I'm too lazy, and it isn't that important.  I just told you the important part.)  Yet, after the surgery, my sweet tooth went through the roof.  For my second meal after surgery, I ordered cholesterol free eggs and a blueberry muffin.  I ate the muffin and left the eggs.  The pre-surgery me would never have done that.  Then, later, I began craving waffles.  Now, the old me didn't hate waffles, but if given a choice between waffles and eggs platters, I was always about the eggs, potatos, and toast.  Logically, I would have thought I would be craving bacon, even though it was out of the question, but waffles?  And blueberry muffins?  Huh?

Even eating my favorites (those I still could) didn't make me happy.  I came home, and got a pickle from the jar in the fridge.  I love dill pickles, and family lore claims I always have.  This time, I could barely eat half of the thing before putting it away on a plate -- it tasted too strong.  How the heck does that happen?  The only other time I didn't want a pickle was when I was pregnant with Toddler.  (Nope, not pregnant, so don't go there.  I checked -- officially.)

Now over a week post-op, and my taste buds are not back to normal.  Of course, with the tonsilitis and sinusitis, I feel like I can't taste much of anything, but I'm still dreaming of fluffy breakfast breads, and the idea of a piece of pizza makes me a little bit queasy.  I understand if I had had time to make the association that what I ate was often the cause of my distress, this aversion would make sense, but from the time we found the cause of my problem, and the time my gall bladder was removed, I didn't even have time for more than one meal, much less time to make any associations.  I am even drinking juice and gatorade, things I just never wanted before.  I can't explain it.

I also can't explain how removing my gall bladder seems to have affected my appetite and my stomach capacity.  Prior to the surgery, I knew of only two states -- "able to eat" and "too stuffed."  Even after not eating for days, I didn't have any real "hunger" mechanism left, nor did I have any reliable "full" mechanism.  Now I have a raging version of both.   I am starved if I don't eat every four hours, and I leave food behind on my plate even if I like it.

I don't even know who I am anymore.  I can't deny the changes aren't good for me, but sheesh, why couldn't I do this when I wanted to?  I have spent the better part of my life in a battle with my appetite, knowing only will power as the guide to "enough" and "the right choices."  Now, instincts seem to be leading me the right way.  Man, if I could bottle this effect, I would never have to work another day in my life.  Pity I can't solve this one for the good of all mankind.

On second thought, maybe I'd better reconsider how much I publicize all these effects of my surgery.  I'd hate to give the food nazis of this country the opportunity to consider mandatory gall bladder removal of the population.  I think i know a few people that might think this is actually a good idea.  Quick! Surf to another blog page!  Don't let them catch you reading this!


The Bucket List Gets a Makeover

>> Wednesday, June 9, 2010

Apparently, I have a Bucket List.  Supposedly, everyone has one.  After some investigation into the term "Bucket List," I will admit to having one, and I will acknowledge that most rational people do have one.

What I cannot figure out is how it came to be called a "Bucket List."

If there is any other human being as woefully ignorant as I about the term "Bucket List," let me explain.  It's that list of things you want to do before you die, or "kick the bucket."  There are an almost infinite number of euphemisms for dying, and "kick the bucket" is a reference to a particularly nasty form -- suicide by hanging.  So the old wives tale goes, it is a reference to kicking away the bucket you stand on to tie the rope.

Now, after reading (most of ) Word Myths: Debunking Linguistic Urban Legends, I know better than to believe what I think to be the origin of that phrase, "kick the bucket."  In true etymology, the term may actually have a far different origin than what I described.  I don't think the truth actually matters (just this once), because we all think it refers to suicide, and that is the most important part.

So, when we refer to our "Bucket List," we are referring to that list of things we'd like to do before we kill ourselves.


I think I like the term even less now. 

Personally, I'd just call it, "The List of Things I'd Like to Do Before I Die." After all, the title worked well for 1,000 Places to See Before You Die, updated ed. (2010) (1,000 Before You Die) and all of its progeny.  Why mess with a good thing?  Well, Twitter, for one thing.  "The List of Things I'd Like to Do Before I Die" is a little tough to tweet ... if you want to bother to add what you are putting ON the list or to talk about it in any way.  (I almost said, "any meaningful way" but that might be stretching 140 characters a little too far.)

So, I figure we can try some sort of funky abbreviation, like LOTILTDBID, but I doubt it would catch on.  We could call it, "The List," but that just begs the question.  We could work with the abbreviation a little, and call it the "LOT List," but that is both redundant and begs the question.  I'm guessing we will have to examine the other euphemisms for death and dying and work with those instead.

Here are just a few to consider:

Bought the Farm -- that would make it the Farm List
Pushing up Daisies -- that would make it the Daisy List.  (Hey, I kinda like that one.)
Resting in Peace -- that would make it the RIP List.  (It's oddly accurate.  This one has potential.)
Shuffled Off the Mortal Coil -- that would make it the ... I don't know ... the Mortal Coil List?
Six Feet Under -- that would make it ... maybe ... the Dirt List?
Sleeping With the Fishes -- that would make it the Fish List
Cashed in His/Her Chips -- that would make it the ... Casino List?
Meeting the Maker -- depending on your beliefs, this could be the God List or the Aliens List or the Evolution List
Entering the Pearly Gates -- I would call this the "Gates List," but I think someone has already taken that name.
Appointment with St. Peter -- I think the best shot of this one is the "Appointment List"
Give Up the Ghost -- that would make it the Ghost List
Go to Glory -- umm ... Yes. Nothing I can come up with will pass the PG-no-innuendo-permitted-filter in typing fingers.

This is one of those posts that is just begging for your comments.  (Do you hear it pleading with you?)  So drop a note, take a vote, and let us know what you think we should call the Bucket List.


A Day in The Museum

>> Monday, June 7, 2010

As I mentioned briefly in my last post, Toddler and I took a trip downtown to go to the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum.  I must say, Toddler was charming, civil, and well-behaved all day.  The experience was rather surreal for me.

We took the metro downtown, and Toddler was in little-boy heaven.  He was on a "train, mommy! A train!"  When the metro went underground, he looked up at the tunnel and said, "It's really black, black sky.  It's really dark in here."  Then he looked at me, grinning, and said, "How we gonna get out?  This is TERRIBLE!  We need to find a way out!"  (Nope.  That kid doesn't watch too much Disney Channel.  Not at all.)

I'm not positive about this, but I am pretty sure I saw some of the other passengers, smirking behind their hands every time he said it.  I swear, every time I go someplace with that kid, I feel like people are looking at us.  Sadly, I know it isn't me they are looking at anymore.  I lost that kind of appeal a few years back.

Once we got into the museum, Toddler wanted to keep climbing into and out of the giant half-model airplane sitting on the exhibit floor.  I'm not sure anyone envisioned a three year old running up the stairs, through the airplane, and back down the other side repeatedly, all the while calling out, "More rocket ship, mommy!"  I am, however, pretty sure they envisioned people trying to sit on the model seats of the plane.  That's why there is a big barrier there and lots of plexiglass everywhere else.  Of course, these obstacles did not prevent Toddler from trying (once, before I could catch up to him).

Then, in my infinite wisdom, I walked us to the other side of the museum, thinking they would still have a model fighter plane for people to climb into, with working switches and everything.  Alas, it appears that this vehicle has been moved to the Udvar-Hazy museum.  On behalf of all parents, I say, "What a tragedy."  The half of a DC-10 is the only small-child walk-through remaining.  Trust me when I tell you that Toddler is less than impressed with the triva computer games that appear elsewhere in the museum, and I was not about to try to test his endurance in either the IMAX or the planetarium show.  (I can picture it now.  "Mommy?  MOMMY!  It's DARK IN HERE!  I scared!  How we gonna get out?"  Or, possibly, several loud and repeated renditions of, "Oh, WWWWWOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWW!!!!!"  Either way, a disruption for sure.)  Flight simulators?  Uh ... no.  Not until he's 18 and does it when I don't know about it.

Of course, like any good Pluto-loving blogger, I took my son through the solar system exhibit.  I don't know if he heard me mutter under my breath about the signs explaining the demotion of Pluto to a "dwarf planet," but perhaps I wasn't being as quiet as I thought.  I mean, we've been sick, and my ears are a little bit clogged.  Anyway, as I wheeled his umbrella stroller up to the display of the relative size of the planets, I sighed a little.  "At least Pluto is still up there."

He sighed too, really loudly.  Then he looked up at the display, and said in that high-pitched, penetrating voice of the very young, "Yeah, Mommy.  It's too bad."


I couldn't help it.  I wondered how far he would play along.  Already, people were starting to turn their heads.  "I agree, Toddler.  Poor Pluto."

"Yep, Mommy.  Poooooorrrrrrr Pludo."  (More heads started to turn.)  "This is just TERRIBLE."

Aaah, that's my boy.

Next we wandered over to an exhibit about weather and satellites.  Boring?  You bet, but I was looking for "less-crowded" so that Toddler wouldn't get on anyone's nerves while we waited to meet up with a friend.  We deposited ourselves in a conspicuously abandoned alcove with lots of seats and a television.  I figured whatever video was about to play above our head had to be something worth blogging about, for good or for bad.  Given how many people were not paying the slightest bit of attention, I was betting on "bad."

Little did I know, though, how bad it could be.  I just don't think I can do justice to the video, so let me summarize a few salient points for you.  The narrator was Willard Scott.  He had a full head of dark hair, and he weighed about 135 pounds soaking wet.  He started off the video talking about something that happened "Only since the 1960s," and toward the end he made a reference to flash cubes -- as in camera flash cubes.

After seeing this video, I had to ask myself why the Smithsonian was spending money to renovate the sign posts relating to Pluto's status when, clearly, here was a video in sore need of renovation itself.  But, as is so often the case, no one bothered to ask me.

Our day trip ended with a similar train ride home, except I had the added pleasure of sitting almost on top of an empty bottle of booze.  It was tucked into the side of the seat, next to the wall, and I decided I didn't really want to touch it with my hands, so I left it there.  Toddler asked if he could have the seat next to the wall, and I said no, because, really, I didn't want him touching the bottle either. (And, well, he would. And break it too, I suspect.)

Finally, I was once again blessing the forces of our nature that make most human adults think children are cute. Toddler kept telling me he wanted to "say 'hi' to the mom".  By that he meant the woman sitting behind us making flirty eyes at him.  I didn't want to turn around and look at her before I answered the question, because I figured that would be pretty rude.  I mean, if she looked ugly, was I going to say no?  I just quietly prayed that whoever she was, she was old enough to appreciate being called a "mom".  Thankfully, she was.  The 20-something in the seat next to her was not, however, when he tried the same stunt on her.  She was not amused.

And then we went home.

The end.


Stop Me If You Have Heard This Before, But ....

>> Friday, June 4, 2010

I feel like I'm having a bit of deja' vu these days.  After this post, I suspect maybe you will too.

Darling Husband and I have been playing a rousing game of Find the Funk for the past several days.  Sadly, the Funk seems to be winning, and we are out of ideas.  I have cleaned all the obvious places (and creatures), and I've cleaned the heck out of certain rooms where it seems strongest, but we just can't find the source.  Of course, a sweet Girl Cat who thinks litter boxes are optional, plus a few weeks of steady rain, and the ever-present possibility of mice (alive or dead or even a practical joke), makes the possibilities just endless.  As I am preparing one more clean of the floors (yes, on my knees), I've just thrown open the windows and doors and am hoping that whatever it is dissipates.

In the meantime, all three of us have been stricken with the plague.  We're mostly over it all by now, but we sound like you wouldn't want to sit next to us on the metro, or stand too close ... or anything.  Of course, I made the oh-so-wise decision to have a little outpatient surgery while I was no longer technically "sick" but not exactly "recovered" and I think that set me back a ... few ... days ... or so.  During our virus-adventure, Entropy and Chaos took advantage of my lie-on-the-couch-and-plead-for-energy-between-coughs, and they messed up the house.  Our Chaos Footprint seems to have grown during my convalesence, and I am afraid that if I ever spend more than one week out of circulation again, we might drown in our own filth.  Certainly illness brought out the Manchurian Candidate in all of us, with stuff strewn around and tossed every convenient place because we were too sick to care.

Today was a much better day, though.  Toddler and I went downtown to visit with an old friend and walk around the Air and Space Museum.  I was pleasantly surprised to find that in high school, I actually had great taste in friends, or at least in this friend. (I guess I shouldn't generalize. )  This is one Facebook-caused reunion that I am happy to have experienced.

Of course, being at the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum, I felt compelled to examine the solar system exhibits to see how they were handling the Pluto situation.  I am sad to report that there are new placards up all over the exhibits explaining that Pluto has been relassified as a dwarf planet, a move that I seriously object to. 

The model of the solar system, happily, still has Pluto shown.  It looks like they aren't taking it down, but other than in the model, the little guy sure has been demoted.  Like a poke of a sore tooth, I couldn't resist moseying over to the part of the exhibit were they used to have the video booth singing, "The Family of the Sun, the family of the Sun!  There are 9 planets in the family of the Sun."  As we could have all guessed, the exhibit is closed for renovation.  *sigh*

On a related note, it seems the human evolution exhibit over in the Museum of Natural History has finally re-opened as the brand new exhibit hall, the David H. Koch Hall of Human Origins.  Also, apparently, we can all morph ourselves into ancient humanoids.  There are even downloadable applications if you can't make it all the way down here to try it out yourself.  When I finally get myself down there to check it out, maybe I'll have a blog post about it for you.  (Okay, these last two links don't go to former blogposts.  You can actually check out the real Smithsonian pages there.)

Maybe tomorrow something new will happen.


The Trash of Artcans

>> Wednesday, June 2, 2010

To at least a very small extent, we all have some sort of nesting instinct.  Some of us have a stronger one than others. Some people will decorate everything in a matched and obsessive way, while others see absolutely no problem with two different end tables in a living room, provided they both still work.

No matter where you are on the spectrum, chances are, at one time or another, you found yourself in need of a wastebasket.

Wastebaskets are not cheap, unless you count the cardboard box you found in your garage, or unless you are pack-ratty enough to have taken one from your grandfather's house when you were cleaning it out after he passed away.  (Admitting nothing, here.)  Heck, even the cardboard box probably cost money, for at least whatever came inside it.

If you were to wander to a store, looking for a wastebasket, some retailer could easily attempt to persuade you to purchase a decorative bin for your trash for anywhere from $10 to $110 dollars, depending on whether the matching bathroom excessories come with it, it is made of gen-u-ine faux leather or rhinestones, or has cute froggies painted on it. 

I've been eyeing some wastebaskets for years, including one that periodically shows up in the Levenger catalogue to be used in a home library.  (Need I say more?)  It looks like it is made of the same material as "leather bound books."  Eh, from Levenger, maybe it is.  Anyway, I don't have it, and I never will until a plastic facsimile appears within my price range.  I just can't justify triple digits for trash.  Until then, my library is ... wastebasket-less.  I just can't find one that doesn't look ... well ... trashy ... in my otherwise scholarly room. 

Then, of course, we have those really fun wastbaskets for kids rooms, with cartoons and all the bright colors.  (I mean, how neat, right?  We buy them in part because we wish we had them when we were little.)

Finally, and possibly the cutest of all, we have those adorable little wastebaskets for the rooms of babies and toddlers.  Little lambs or lions or sheep, with lids and swinging tops shaped like heads for the trash to pass through....

And there you have it.  You have just been lulled into it too.  For at least one little moment there, you actually bought into the idea that a wastebasket in a baby or toddler's room should be cute and animal-ly, and have adorable moving parts.  You have just agreed that a bin for trash in the room of a small child should look irresistably like a toy.

What on Earth we were all thinking?  Don't we know what goes IN those trash bins?  Why in heaven's name would anyone in this germ-hysteria country ever make a trashcan so much fun to play with?  We have collectively lost our ever-loving minds is what we have done.  We don't want it to look like what it is (a nasty receptacle for things we don't want to have to touch anymore), so we make it look pleasant.  Pleasant.  In a room where children reach to grab all that is bright, colorful, or animal-looking.

Man.  Aren't we bright?

The sad thing is, none of this even occurred to me until the first day I set my kid down on the floor of his own room and watched him eye that trashcan.

Yep.  I fell for it too.  Darn cuteness.


Eviction Notice

>> Tuesday, June 1, 2010

I am interrupting my regularly scheduled blogpost to bring you this special notice. 

This past Saturday night, I gave my gall bladder an eviction notice, and it departed my body with reluctance and a certain amount of effort by the local surgical group.  Some of you may have seen me on Twitter threatening my internal organs to stop all the "nonsense" and shape up, because some of them were certainly expendable.  Sad to say, my gall bladder called my bluff.  On the orders of my PCP, I was in the regional hospital before 9 AM Saturday morning, and by 9 PM or so, gall bladder met surgeon with poor results for gall bladder.

I can imagine that the rest of my internal organs are trying to figure out what the heck happened.  For starters, there is a lot more space.  Apparently, my gall bladder was taking up more than its fair share of room, and trust me, it wasn't paying its rent correctly.  In fact, the medical folks tell me that it hasn't been paying proper rent for a long, long time.  I can only hope that in the future when I tell the rest of the internal structures to shape up, they will take me seriously.

Among other results of this decision, my family has decided that I am no longer in charge of entertainment for Memorial Day weekend ever again.

Perhaps more relevant to the rest of you is that I have taken a bit of a vow to not blog excessively while under the influence of narcotic pain killers.  I do have a few more posts still scheduled to appear over the next few weekdays.  Unfortunately, I am afraid that I may have to slow down my posting for awhile, and I may not be able to bring you a new post every day.  I hope you understand.

I had been working hard to write posts in advance so that I could peacefully leave the country for a little while (without my laptop), and you would never even know I was gone.  More and more, it looks like this plan will not happen. 

By the way, don't bother to try to figure out where I live and rob my house when I'm not posting, as I have people staying here in my absence and three very agressive attack cats (they will pee on you, shed on you, and quite possibly fart and/or puke up a hairball on you).  I also have neighbors that really care about us, and they have some mighty big dogs.  Besides, unless you want baby toys, I don't really have anything you would even want.  Our big TV in the family room isn't even high definition, and I don't own a Blu-Ray device. 

On June 23, 2009, I posted what was the first of a (so far) unbroken string of week-daily posts.  I was hoping to make it a full year before I cried for mercy, but I will settle for almost-a-year.  From now on, my promise to you is that I will aspire to continue the daily posts, but there will be times when that doesn't happen.  The month of June will definitely be one of those times.  Quite possibly, I will miss more days in June than I hit, but we have some great guest posters working on some things for you that should be well worth all of our time and effort.  I am looking forward to their posts, and I think you will enjoy them very much.

During days when I don't post, I recommend you check out the "Fan Favorites" label, as well as the "Cats" and the "Entropy and Chaos" labels.  For some of you, the results will be new-to-you posts.  For the rest of you, maybe you will be inspired to send them on to someone else.

Thanks, everyone, for bearing with me.  I am absolutely certain that they did not amputate my sense of humor along with my gall bladder, and I am even more certain that my upcoming trip to Egypt will provide a great source of future entertainment for all of us.

Happy (Belated) Memorial Day, and Happy June.


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